Feriae Civitas
by unicorn-skydancer08
Summary: After renouncing his duty to the Witch, Tumnus swears to never betray Aslan again, and to always obey the Lion, at any cost. But Aslan must make doubly sure of that.
1. Part 1

**FERIAE CIVITAS**

_Hello, again! Got another story in the works, and another Narnia story at that. Call me nuts for making an entirely new story, when I've got so many stories left unfinished. But, on the positive side, this gives me a breather from the other stories—and, you know, I can always go back to them later. Sometimes you do have to step away from a story for a while before you're able to resume writing it. And when a good idea for a fresh story comes along, you might as well grab it on the spot before it flees from you and vanishes forever. _

_Now, you're probably wondering what in the world _"Feriae Civitas"_ means. So, I'll enlighten you. It's Latin for "holier state", or "more exalted state". In other words, it means rising up from the low and pathetic spot that you were once in, becoming a better, stronger person than you were before. Knowing Tumnus and his story, in the book as well as the movie, it seemed fitting. Yes, there is a great deal of spirituality contained in this story. This is where I slot in a lot of my religious beliefs. I don't expect you to agree with those beliefs, but I __do__ expect you to be courteous and respectful of them. _

_Respect my beliefs, and I will respect yours. _

**

* * *

Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved. **_

**

* * *

PART 1**

A great flood of tears spilled unreservedly down Tumnus's face, as the weak, pathetic creature prostrated himself to the ground at the feet of Aslan—otherwise known as the Great Lion, the Great Golden Lion, the King of All Beasts, the ruler and savior of Narnia. The faun's tears fell upon the Lion's paws like drops of rain, and his whole frame heaved and shook with the intense sobs that forced their way out of him. Aslan remained where he was the whole time, never moving a muscle. Nor did the terrific beast speak a word, or make a single sound. He only sat there, straight and still as a statue, his mighty golden head held high enough to show nobility and dignity, yet not so high as to indicate haughtiness or conceit. His bright, infinitely wise amber eyes surveyed the poor creature at his feet with a mixture of pity, sorrow, and intense love, and without so much as a particle of hatred or disgust.

Tumnus knew he should try to control himself, but he honestly couldn't. The tears simply gushed out of him, as water through a rift in a barrier, and everything he was feeling in his heart and soul came forth with the deluge. Between the agonized sobs, in broken, almost indiscernible words, the wretched faun confessed to Aslan all that he had done in the past years, bringing his old treachery and impiety to light, and begging for the Lion's mercy—while all the time swearing that Aslan would do well to slay him on the spot.

"I'm so sorry, Aslan!" Tumnus wept bitterly. "I am so sorry…I have done everything wrong! _Everything! _I am the worst faun in Narnia; I am the most despicable creature to have ever existed since the beginning of the world! I have turned my back on you and all that is good and right for the sake of my own life, and now my life is forfeit. Oh, if only you had heard the things I had said, seen the things I had done—you shouldn't even be here. How can you ever have anything to do with me? Why should you care about me? I have failed you, Aslan. I have sinned against you. I am unworthy and undeserving of you, in every way. You may as well eat me, or rip me to pieces, here and now; you'll be doing yourself and everyone else a favor!"

It was a wonder Aslan was able to even comprehend Tumnus, the way the faun sobbed and wailed and carried on like that.

But the Great Lion truly seemed to understand just what Tumnus meant to say, and what he stood most in need of, long before the faun had given voice to it.

"Tumnus, my son," the Lion said at length, in a voice that was as rich as the honey from the comb, and as majestic as the sea, "I know full well what you have done, and it truly breaks my heart to know of all that has come about. But," he added, lowering his voice significantly, "nothing you have said or done can or will ever make me love you any less."

Hearing this, Tumnus felt nearly every ounce of his strength leave him, and he was quite sure he would have fallen, had he not been down on the ground already.

Very slowly, he dared to raise his head and look directly into the Lion's amaranthine eyes, the tears upon his face glinting like diamonds in the faint light.

"Y-you love me?" was all the lachrymose faun could bring himself to sputter.

"More than you will ever know, my son," Aslan told him very softly, and there was not even the slightest indication of deceit in the noble beast's tone, or countenance.

He stooped his own head, bringing his and Tumnus's faces closer together, and solemnly brushed Tumnus's fevered forehead with his damp nose. The splendid gold mane that shrouded the Lion's head and shoulders came spilling down as he did so; it tickled Tumnus's bare skin in a most pleasant and reassuring way. Tumnus could scarcely believe his ears, yet somewhere in the core of his being, he knew Aslan spoke the truth. Perhaps—perhaps he could ask Aslan the questions he did not dare give thought to before.

He was sure he may have long since crossed the line; he was more than convinced he was as good as lost. But, maybe, just maybe…if there was but the slightest, slimmest chance…

"Aslan?" Tumnus ventured timidly.

"Speak on, my child," Aslan encouraged him.

"Is it…is it…" Tumnus fought to gulp down the massive lump that hovered in his throat. "Is it possible to make things right again, Aslan? Is it possible for me to change all that I've done?"

He faltered for but a moment, and somehow managed to give voice to the one question that taunted him above all the rest.

It was the one he feared to ask the most, yet the one whose answer he anticipated the most: "Can you…c-can you…f-forgive me?"

"We cannot change what is already past, my son," said Aslan prudently. "What is done, is done."

He brought his face even closer to Tumnus's, so that Tumnus could feel the gentle tickle of his whiskers on his own cheek, and smell the sweetness of his breath.

"Yet if you truly regret what you have done, if you truly repent of your sins and seek forgiveness, forgiveness is indeed attainable."

Hearing this, seeing the promise reflected in Aslan's eyes, Tumnus felt a flame of hope stir within his heart. Even if he couldn't change the past, he thought, he could still repent of it—and perhaps release himself from the devastating guilt that plagued him. Therefore, the faun didn't hesitate to accept the Lion's proposal. "I do," he said humbly, dipping his head, exposing the nape of his fur-lined neck. "I do truly regret it all, Aslan, from the bottom of my heart. I fully renounce my servitude to evil, now and forever. I repent of all I've done wrongly, and I sincerely pray there is yet a chance for me to come back and put myself right." His voice broke, like a piece of delicate glass, and he bent his head a little further. "Forgive me, Aslan," he implored, the tears threatening to flow afresh. "I know there is no excuse or justification for my sins, but I beg you to forgive me for them all the same. Please, Aslan…please forgive me."

"I forgive you, Tumnus," Aslan never hesitated to proclaim, and the words wove their way into the darkest, most distant recesses of Tumnus's being, unearthing them and cleansing them. "I forgive you for all that is past, for the great in addition to the small. From this time forth, Tumnus, you belong to me, and you stand justified in the eyes of my father."

Tumnus never believed such words could sound so beautiful, or so glorious. Once again, he felt his physical strength vanish from him altogether, as though drained from a spigot. With a great sob, the faun slumped all the way to the ground once more and pressed his forehead to the Lion's paw, the tears that he could no longer restrain soaking into the velvet fur.

But this time, rather than tears of sorrow and penitence, the faun shed tears of pure joy, of sheer gratitude.

"Oh, thank you, Aslan," was all he could bring himself to gasp. "Oh, thank you_, thank you…_"

He wept at Aslan's feet for what must have been ages, while Aslan stayed put the entire time and nuzzled the faun lovingly. By the time Tumnus managed to get some hold of himself, and had risen to a kneeling position so that he and Aslan faced one another more properly, the faun couldn't help questioning, "How, Aslan? How is it done?"

"There is always hope for creatures such as you, my son," Aslan answered him, "with hearts such as the one you possess. Those who have the humility to confess their faults, rather than attempt to hide them or make excuses for them, those who possess the meekness to ask forgiveness for their sins shall be granted such a desire. Humility, my son, is the foundation of all virtues. It is a virtue far more precious than gold or silver, or any earthly fortune. It is a treasure beyond price."

"Oh, Aslan, my lord…how good you are to me," Tumnus whispered tremulously, his eyes welling up afresh, "and how I love you."

"And I you, my dearest child," Aslan replied benevolently, giving Tumnus a sweet lick on his brow.

Moving in closer, immersing his wet, begrimed face in the sea of mane, Tumnus vowed, "I shall never betray you again, my lord. Here and now, I surrender my life to you, and only you. Whatever it is you shall have of me, from this time forth, you shall have it. Whatever you ask of me, whatever you will have me do, whatever burden you wish me to bear, I'll do it if I die trying."

Tumnus never knew it at that time, of course; yet Aslan, being the supreme, all-knowing creature that he was, knew the day would come when Tumnus would have to indeed shoulder such a burden—when he would be forced to decide between Aslan, and that which was most dear to the faun's heart.


	2. Part 2

**FERIAE CIVITAS**

_And we proceed with part 2! You may have already figured this out by now, but this story is similar to the story of Abraham and Isaac, found in the book of Genesis in the Holy Bible. I said there would be religious themes incorporated into this story, and they're there! Once again, I'm not trying to force my religion upon anybody, and I'm not trying to force you to agree with me. _

_I'm only sharing what I believe in, is all; it's up to you whether or not you accept those beliefs. _

**

* * *

Characters (with some exceptions) © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved. **_

**

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PART 2**

Many years later, when the Four Monarchs of Narnia were fully-grown, and Tumnus had taken the youngest, Queen Lucy the Valiant, to wife, Aslan blessed the faun and his beautiful wife with a gift beyond all measure. It was not long after Tumnus and Lucy were married that Lucy discovered, to her disbelief and inexpressible delight, that she was with child.

Tumnus could scarcely believe the good news when she first revealed it to him, and so it was with all else residing at Castle Cair Paravel.

Yet it proved to be true, for within the following year, Lucy could be found nursing a newborn faun at her heart in her bedchamber.

When Tumnus laid his eyes upon his son for the first time, when he beheld for himself the child of his own flesh and blood, the feelings that overwhelmed him there and then would be essentially impossible to describe. Almost believing it to be a dream, the faun fell to his knees at his wife's side and dropped his head to the bed, giving tearful, silent thanks to Aslan for this glorious fortune, knowing full well he would never be able to thank the Lion enough. At length, Lucy allowed her husband to take the warm bundle from her, into his own arms. Very carefully, Tumnus folded a bit of the blanket back, so as to get a better look at his son's face. As he gazed down upon the little faun nestled against his breast, he was sure his very heart would burst. "Oh, Lucy," he breathed, as he brushed one finger ever so lightly over the delicate fuzz that rimmed the youngling's leaf-shaped ear, "he's perfect! He's absolutely perfect!"

"Aslan be praised for such a wonderful gift, my beloved," Lucy whispered rapturously.

Tumnus closed his eyes and laid his cheek against the baby faun's soft blonde curls, inhaling deeply the smell of him. Were he to live to be a thousand, he knew he would never forget that sweet smell. Almost hypnotically, he began to rock the child back and forth. As he did so, he kept repeating over and over, like a prayer chant, "My son…oh, my son…my son…"

* * *

When asked just what they were going to call their son, Lucy and Tumnus both opted for the name Puck. It was a rather simple name, but it suited him perfectly.

Everyone grew to love the little faun—especially Terence, a young white-haired man who was a unicorn at heart, and Tumnus's best and most devoted friend in the whole world. Tumnus and Lucy unanimously appointed him as the godfather to their son. Terence was nothing short of thrilled, and undertook this responsibility in all seriousness.

Time passed, and Puck grew, and Tumnus's love for his son grew along with him. You never saw a sweeter, more touching relationship than the one Tumnus and Puck shared. Puck meant more to Tumnus than anything in the world. Naturally, Puck grew extremely fond of his father; his little angelic face always glowed whenever he saw Tumnus right there. When he was old enough to walk on his own two hooves, he would literally fly into the older faun's arms, every time Tumnus came into the room. Tumnus would hug him tightly and smother him in kisses, or get down on the floor with him and they'd engage in some good-natured horseplay. Sometimes, when Tumnus was sitting alone, Puck would come to him, as if from nowhere, and insist that they play or do something fun together; or else he would climb up into Tumnus's lap and Tumnus would hold him close. At night, after Puck had drifted peacefully off to sleep, Tumnus would often remain at his side, holding his hand, keeping a faithful watch over him. And every day and night, Tumnus never forgot to get on his knees and thank Aslan for his precious son.

* * *

Then one day, when Puck was around five years of age—just old enough to talk properly, and do most things of his own free will—Tumnus was out for a private swim in a small lake not far from Cair Paravel. Tumnus loved swimming in the Jewel Lake, where the water was always so refreshingly cool, and always so clean and clear; he could put his face in it and easily see everything, right down to the bottom. The faun spent a good hour or so just stroking and paddling, or lying very quietly on his front, holding his breath, allowing the gentle current to carry him.

By the time he finally emerged from the lake, soaked to the bone and dripping profusely, he was astonished yet elated to discover that Aslan accompanied him in the cool green coppice.

Aslan had not been to see him in person for a good number of years—not since before Puck was born.

While Tumnus always knew the Lion was there, his heart leaped all the same to see him standing there, in the flesh. "My lord," the faun said in a hushed voice, never hesitating to kneel at Aslan's feet and touch his forehead reverently to the Lion's paw. "It is a pleasure and an honor to once again be here, in your presence. Truly, I am the most fortunate of all fauns."

"Tumnus, my child," acknowledged Aslan, in his smooth, regal voice. "It's good to see you again."

When Tumnus straightened up, he looked Aslan squarely in the eyes and requested, "What may I do for you, sir? Tell me, please, what is it you would have of me?"

"Tumnus," said Aslan, after a minute of deliberate silence, "I have a commandment for you."

"And I am here to receive it," Tumnus said solemnly, closing his eyes and dipping his head in submission. "Tell me what it is I must do, my lord, and I shall abide by your word. As your humble servant, you know I will gladly do anything for you…even to the laying down of my very life."

"We shall see about that, my friend," Aslan informed him. "To say outright that you will do something is one thing. To actually perform the task is quite another matter."

"Please, Aslan, tell me what I should do."

"Behind you, Tumnus, in the second hollow stump to your left, there is something for you to retrieve. Retrieve it now."

"Yes, my lord." Tumnus promptly rose up and did as he had been instructed. When he withdrew his hand from the stump Aslan spoke of, the faun was somewhat surprised to discover he clutched a long, thin knife with a jet-black handle, and a gleaming silver blade that was whittled to a deadly point.

He just barely brushed the razor-sharp edge with his finger, and the blade forthwith drew blood, making Tumnus gasp and withdraw his hand immediately.

"Now, Tumnus," Aslan said, drawing level with the faun, "this is the commandment I give you. Listen very carefully. Do exactly what I say, as I say it. And tell no other living soul what I tell you here and now—not even your wife, or your friend Terence. You are to take your young son, Puck, your one and only child, and bring him to the Hill of the Stone Table."

Tumnus remembered that place. The Stone Table, as its name designated, was a massive slab of cold gray stone established upon a high hillock south of the Great River, not far from the Great Woods. It was only a few days' journey from Cair Paravel. Up until not too far back, the Table itself served as a sacrificial dolmen, where traitors and tormentors were slain as part of a religious rite. Now, due to the ultimate sacrifice made by Aslan himself, the Stone Table lay in broken, desolate fragments. "What am I to do then, when we get there, Aslan?" Tumnus questioned.

Here, Aslan stood very still, and looked the faun very gravely in the face.

"There, Tumnus," he said, speaking very slowly, enunciating every syllable, "you are to sacrifice your son to me."

Hearing this, Tumnus felt his heart all but stop beating, and his blood run to ice. The knife immediately slipped from his fingers, dropping with a dull thud by his hoof.

Paralyzed, unsure of whether he heard properly or not, Tumnus could only stammer, "W-_what?_"

"You must plunge that very knife I have just bestowed upon you into your son's heart," Aslan said. "You are to surrender Puck to me."

His profound eyes never once shifted from Tumnus's face, their expression remaining absolutely serious.

Tumnus still wasn't quite convinced he had heard what he thought he'd just heard.

"What…what are you saying, Aslan?" His voice was scarcely a whisper; so great was his shock and bewilderment.

"You must kill Puck, Tumnus."

"Kill him?" Now Tumnus felt his numb shock dissolve into pure terror, as well as heart-wrenching anguish.

"Yes. And you are to do it on the next full moon, with no one else accompanying you. You are to be entirely alone when you carry out the task. Now, go, Tumnus, and do as I command. Remember, make no mention of what you and I discussed. Do you understand? Not one word, not to anyone."

Tumnus couldn't believe what was happening to him, couldn't believe what Aslan wanted him to do.

Just take his son away, without telling anybody, and _kill _him? On _purpose?_

Why would Aslan ask him to do such a thing?

No, Tumnus's heart protested, no—that couldn't be! He had never killed anyone in his life! He couldn't do it, not to his own son! Surely Aslan had to be joking! Yet one look at the sorrowful solemnity in the Lion's noble face told Tumnus this was anything _but_ a joke. Almost without realizing it, hot tears sprung up within Tumnus's eyes, making Aslan and the trees go blurry around him. His whole body began to quake, like a fragile leaf caught in a violent windstorm. Pain and agony such as the faun had never felt or would have believed possible pierced him, like the knife Aslan had given to him. His long, goat-stag legs buckled beneath him, and he fell awkwardly to his knees, barely noticing the impact as he crashed to the ground.

"Aslan." His voice emerged small, broken, and despairing. "Why do you ask this of me? How can you expect me to butcher my son like a piece of meat? What would Lucy say, if I took Puck away from her, and he never came back? How could I ever face her again? How could I ever face all the others? Isn't there another way, Aslan? Puck's just a child! More than just a child, he's _my _child! As his father, I could never bring myself to harm him!" The faun shook his head adamantly, his tears spilling to the ground like rain. "No…no, Aslan, I can't do this! I can't—I _won't!_"

Aslan merely looked at him, and said, "If you do not do this, Tumnus, you have no place with me."

The next thing Tumnus knew, the Great Lion was gone from his sight, as if vanished into thin air. Startled, Tumnus glanced about every which way, but Aslan was nowhere to be found. When Tumnus called for him, there was no answer—nothing except for the melodious trill of the birds in the trees, and the gentle splash of the water against the rocks in the lake.

"Aslan?" Tumnus shouted to the heavens. "_Aslan!_"

But Aslan was gone.

"Oh, Aslan…" Tumnus's emotions got the better of him, and he plunged his face into his hands and began to weep bitterly.


	3. Part 3

**FERIAE CIVITAS**

_We now proceed with part 3! For those of you already familiar with the story of Abraham, you probably already know where this story is headed. _

_But I'll bet you'll want to see how it turns out all the same, with Tumnus and Puck and Aslan and everything. So, stick around! _

_I'm sure this is similar to what Abraham went through, when he was told to sacrifice Isaac. Abraham wanted to obey God, there's no doubt about that; but Isaac was his only living child, his child of promise, and no doubt he adored him. I'm sure the shock and devastation of Tumnus is similar to the shock and devastation Abraham himself must have felt. Worst of all, Tumnus cannot confide in anyone else about this, because Aslan has forbidden him to tell anyone, including Terence and Lucy. It is the faun's burden, and his burden alone, to bear._

**

* * *

Characters (with some exceptions) © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved. **_

**

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PART 3**

Tumnus returned to Cair Paravel that same day with a heavy heart—and a broken one, at that.

Though the faun had made sure to hide the knife long before the castle emerged into view, he could do nothing to hide the tears that flooded relentlessly down his face, dripping from the ends of his curly beard and streaming down either side of his neck. He could do precious little to manage his sharp, ragged breathing, or the unbearable pounding within his chest. Both his legs were trembling so badly he could hardly walk; it took nearly everything he had within him just to place one hoof in front of the other. More than once, he was compelled to stop and lean against something for support, lest he fall to the ground and never be able to get up again. What was he going to do? Tumnus gave out a deep groan of anguish and despair, dropping his head while raising both hands at the same time, his fingers digging distractedly into the untamed curls. He knew he had sworn to always obey Aslan, to do whatever the Lion commanded him to do—but to sacrifice his own son, his only child? Tumnus doubted he'd have the strength, or the heart, to follow through with this. If anything, _he_ ought to die for Puck!

Aslan had been quite right when he had said earlier that to say you would obey was one thing, and that to actually obey was something else.

_What am I going to do? _Tumnus kept agonizing to himself. _Oh, dear, almighty Aslan, what am I going to _do?

When, somehow, in the end, he finally made it to Cair Paravel, Terence was the first to meet up with him.

Tumnus didn't see his mate right away, and had to seize onto one of the great columns to prevent himself from collapsing. With his forehead bowed against the cool marble, Tumnus drew in several shallow breaths, fighting vainly to pull himself together. One look at the faun told Terence that something was wrong—terribly wrong.

"Tumnus?" the young white-haired man said anxiously, making a swift beeline to him. "Tumnus, what is it? What's wrong?"

Tumnus looked up at the sound of his voice. "N-nothing," he faltered weakly, though tears continued to pour steadily from his eyes. "I-it's nothing, Terence."

Terence wasn't fooled for a minute. "Tumnus," he said in disbelief, "you're crying!"

Then Lucy appeared, much to Tumnus's heartache and dismay.

"Tumnus?" she said frantically, when she saw her husband in his state. Within two seconds, she was at his side. "Tumnus, my darling, what's happened? Are you all right?"

Tumnus faltered, knowing Aslan had forbidden him to mention a word to anyone, including Terence and Lucy…the two individuals whom Tumnus loved and trusted above all the rest.

"I'm fine," was all the faun could bring himself to say. "I'm just…just fine."

But the words sounded totally pathetic and unconvincing, even to his own ears, and such a horrible feeling churned in the pit of his stomach that Tumnus feared he would be sick on the spot.

"You are most certainly _not _fine," Lucy contradicted.

"Look at yourself, mate," said Terence, reaching out with one hand to touch the faun's face. "You're as pale as a ghost. And you're shaking!"

It was true; Tumnus's whole body was quivering quite visibly, from ear to hoof. His legs looked like they were ready to give out beneath him at any minute.

"What's the matter with you?" Terence went on solicitously. "Are you ill, Tumnus?"

Tumnus knew he had to get away. He could not bear to be around his wife or his best mate another minute, nor could he face anyone else in the castle.

Praying feverishly that he would not break and give everything away, he said tremulously, "I'm sorry, I-I must go. Forgive me."

Then he turned and hurried away, ignoring Terence as his friend called out his name, and paying no heed to Lucy's desperate pleas for him to come back. All around Tumnus, people asked the faun in worried and bewildered tones where he had been all this time and what his problem was, but he never answered any of them, only forced himself to keep going. Even High King Peter himself tried to stop Tumnus. At one point, General Oreius, a tall, strongly built centaur who led the High King's army, who was like a brother and a father to Tumnus at the same time, caught the young faun by his shoulders and asked him, "Tumnus, what is going on?"

But Tumnus only pushed himself away from the centaur and fled, as a terrified lamb fleeing from a ravenous wolf.

Tumnus soon met up with Puck, his own son, who cried out delightedly, "Papa!"

The little faun's radiant smile and his sweet, innocent voice seared through Tumnus like a rod of burning iron. Tumnus closed his eyes to avoid looking at him as he made way for his own private chambers. Puck's long ears drooped downward as he watched his father run away from him. When Tumnus was gone, the little youngling said very softly, "Papa?"

Once inside his chambers, Tumnus shut the door firmly, and secured the lock. Then, with his eyes closed, he turned and slumped back against the heavy wood, letting himself slowly slide all the way down until he rested on his haunches on the floor. He felt nothing short of terrible for deserting his poor son like that, for likely hurting Puck and causing the little one to wonder what he could have possibly done wrong. But being around Puck, of all people, only painfully underscored Aslan's commandment to slay him.

"Oh, Aslan," Tumnus whispered to the lonely silence, his head bowed, his hands over his damp, feverish face, "I can't do this. I just can't do this."

Yet even as he spoke thus, Aslan's words from that afternoon resounded once again in the faun's quick, sensitive ears: _"If you do not do this, Tumnus, you have no place with me." _

Tumnus was at a loss of which was the worse torment: the death of his son…or the forfeiture of his station with Aslan.

Aslan had done so much for him; Tumnus owed his very soul to the Lion. Oh, why, _why_, out of all the things Aslan could have desired of him, did the Lion want him to do something like this? What could the Great Lion possibly want with a sacrifice such as this? What good could come of putting an end to Puck, especially when Puck was still so small, so young, so helpless? Aslan might as well have told Tumnus to tie a stone around his neck, and jump into the Eastern Ocean. In a way, Tumnus wished he had.

It would have been far much easier, and far much better, to kill himself than to kill his child.


	4. Part 4

**FERIAE CIVITAS**

_It took me longer than usual to write the next bit, but my diligence has paid off! I plan to write at least one more chapter after this, with possibly an epilogue, so this means we're more than half-done. I wasn't planning on making this a very long story, anyway. Again, you probably already know how this is going to end, but you probably want to read it for yourselves anyway! _

**

* * *

Characters (with some exceptions) © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved. **_

**

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PART 4**

"Are you sure about this, Tumnus? Do you really think it's safe for you and Puck to be out there alone, in the wilderness?"

"We'll be safe enough, Lucy," Tumnus answered, as he sealed his pack and hefted it onto his shoulder.

"Shouldn't you at least take Oreius with you?" Lucy asked anxiously. "Or Terence, or Peter, or anyone?"

"It's all right, Lucy. Puck and I can make it on our own for a few days." Tumnus gently traced his wife's jawline with his fingers before kissing her tenderly on the mouth. "Don't forget," he added on, "I've lived my whole life in the wild. And Aslan will be watching over us the whole time, dear heart. He'll protect us."

It was a cool, clear morning, and Tumnus was about to leave with Puck on what he called "a return to our forest roots".

Since he and Puck were fauns, he had said, he decided they could use some time away from life at the palace, and pay a visit to the woods and vales from which their ancestors hailed. Being fauns, naturally, the outdoors thrived in their very blood. Beyond that, Tumnus had added that this would be a perfect opportunity for the two of them to spend quality time together.

What he didn't mention, however, was that he would be taking Puck to the Stone Table…and that Puck would not be coming back with him in the end.

After three agonizing days of wrestling with himself, of fasting and praying endlessly, Tumnus had ultimately succumbed, and decided he would do what Aslan commanded of him.

Though his heart spoke against this, he knew he must obey Aslan, no matter the cost.

The thin, deadly knife Aslan had given him was wrapped in a clean cloth, and hidden at the very bottom of his loaded pack. Tumnus had made sure that no one else saw it, when he first tucked it away. Even now, though Tumnus put on a passable smile for his wife and everyone else, inwardly his heart was very heavy, on the verge of breaking. And seeing Puck's enthusiasm at the prospect of exploring the outside world with his father only stabbed at Tumnus, as if someone had thrust the very knife into him.

Lucy could clearly make out the distress in Tumnus's hollow blue eyes, and it was now her turn to trace his jawline.

"Are you feeling up to this, my dearest?" she questioned softly, curling a ringlet of his beard around her fingers. "Do you feel all right?"

"You've certainly been acting very strange these past few days, mate," Terence piped up, who'd joined up with them right then. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

"I'll be all right," Tumnus assured his friend and his wife, even though he knew just the opposite was true. "A few days with Puck in the heart of Narnia ought to do us both a world of good."

"I'll go with you," Terence offered, just as Tumnus was turning away.

"_No!_" said Tumnus, almost too quickly, and too harshly.

Surprised, stunned, Terence took a tentative step back from his mate, as if he'd just been physically struck, while Lucy gave her husband a look of utter bafflement.

Speaking more gently this time, Tumnus repeated, "No. This is something I must do alone." Terence looked crestfallen, and Tumnus now set his pack down by his hooves, before placing his hands on Terence's drooped shoulders and gazing meekly into the youth's face. "Forgive me, Terence," the faun entreated. "It's nothing personal. It's nothing I hold against you. As much as I would love to have you with me, as much as I appreciate your offer, this is solely between me and Puck. This is meant for just the two of us, alone. You understand, don't you, mate?"

Terence was still evidently disappointed, but he nodded docilely. "I understand," he answered, in a very quiet voice.

He reached out and clapped Tumnus gently on the bare shoulder, adding on, "May Aslan be with you."

Tumnus's eyes welled up as he replied tremulously, "And may Aslan keep you…my brother." He stepped closer, and they slid their arms around one another, embracing warmly.

"Take care of Lucy for me," Tumnus whispered to Terence. Terence couldn't be sure, but Tumnus seemed in no hurry to let him go, and he didn't seem to want the young man to let go, either. When they finally pulled away in the end, Tumnus kissed Terence on the forehead, something he did only on very rare occasions.

It moved Terence deeply; the bewildered youth opened his mouth once or twice to speak after Tumnus had withdrawn, but could not find the appropriate words.

Now Tumnus turned to Lucy one last time. He pulled her against his heart, and held her just as tightly, if not tighter.

The tears that had sprung up trickled steadily down his cheeks as he did so. He closed his eyes and very slowly lowered his forehead to Lucy's shoulder, sniffling uncontrollably. Lucy was both surprised and dismayed to feel the warm wetness of his tears running over the bare skin of her neck. But before she could ask her husband what troubled him so, he looked up again and kissed her softly yet passionately on the mouth, before whispering, "My dearest, most beloved Lucy…no matter what happens, please remember that I love you, that you and Puck mean everything to me, that I would gladly give my life for you. And if I have ever hurt you or wronged you in any way, or should I ever do so, forgive me."

"Tumnus, whatever are you…" Lucy began to question, but he pressed his fingers against her lips to silence her.

"There is no real way for me to truly explain this," he said. "Just…kiss me, Lucy. Kiss me, one last time, before we depart."

Without even waiting for his wife to give her answer, he closed his eyes once more and, with the tears still pouring abundantly down his face, sealed his lips over hers in a final kiss. Lucy froze for but a brief moment. Then she felt the familiar sensation melt her knees, and she sank freely into her husband's arms and returned his impassioned kiss. She reached up and stroked his brown-gold curls as she did so, while he pulled loose the silk ribbon that kept her hair tied back, so that her hair came spilling down in a luxurious cascade of copper.

Terence, not wishing to disrupt the moment, moved quietly ahead, toward his godson, who was prancing excitedly about from here to there. When Puck saw his godfather, he stopped at once and hurried swiftly to Terence's side. "Uncle Terence," he said in his small voice, reaching up and tugging eagerly at the hem of Terence's blue frock, "are you coming, too?"

"No," said Terence gently, "not this time, little guy." He knelt down, so that they were at a more equal level, and went on, "It's just going to be you and your father."

He offered an encouraging smile. "But, hey…when you come back, you can tell me all about it!"

Puck appeared somewhat disappointed, but he just said, "Okay. I'll miss you, Uncle Terence."

Terence ruffled the little faun's blonde curls affectionately. "I'll miss you, too, little pal. You go, and have an adventure."

They hugged, and Terence was just climbing back to his feet by the time Tumnus joined them, with his pack slung over his shoulder, looking dejected but also resolute.

"Come, Puck," Tumnus said, in a reasonably steady voice, "it's time for you and I to get going. Say goodbye to your mother."

So Puck waved to Lucy. "Goodbye, Mama!"

A weak smile crossed Tumnus's face, in spite of himself. "I believe you can do better than that, my son."

Puck knew his father was right. So, he made a beeline to his mother, running as fast as his little goat legs could carry him.

Lucy readily opened her arms to her son as he drew near. Puck flung himself right into them, hugging her as hard as he possibly could. She crouched down to his level, and he adjusted his grip so that his little arms now wrapped around her shoulders. Lucy squeezed him every bit as hard as he squeezed her, if not harder.

"I love you, Mama," Tumnus heard his son mumble.

"I love you, darling," Lucy answered tenderly. "I love you so very much."

Emotion closed Tumnus's throat as he regarded the two of them. He was sure he was going to die on the spot. The sight was the most beautiful he had ever seen—and that was what was so terrible about it. Knowing this was Puck and Lucy's last moment together made the moment especially powerful and painful.

All too soon, Tumnus would have to take his son away, to fulfill the deed Aslan had conferred upon him.

If only there was some way to freeze time, to keep this one single moment alive forever…

_Hold him, Lucy, _Tumnus said silently to his wife, as a solitary tear trailed down his cheek, like a liquid jewel. _Hold him…for as long as you can. _

* * *

In the end, of course, Tumnus and Puck were compelled to leave. Before long, they were on their way. Puck's spirits were soaring as they left Cair Paravel behind and passed into the copse of cool green trees, with its pure streams of water, and the thick, sweet wildflowers and the fresh grass that grew past his knees.

He darted ahead of his father, laughing and whooping with pure jubilation. Tumnus watched with amusement and heartache as Puck pursued a butterfly that flitted just beyond his reach.

How could he do this, Tumnus couldn't stop asking himself? How could he destroy this precious child, put such rare sweetness and innocence to a bitter, premature end?

Who knew if it was even Aslan that had given him this command?

Perhaps it had all been a trick, some fancy of Tumnus's imagination.

Yet no sooner had such a notion filtered into Tumnus's head than the older faun was beset by a sudden, sharp pang in his gut that brought an audible gasp out of him. It nearly sickened him, threatened to make him double over in agony. He acknowledged this sick feeling as a sign of chastisement; no doubt this came from Aslan himself.

Tumnus immediately recanted, and didn't hesitate to pray to Aslan in his heart for forgiveness—before the Great Lion struck him down with something worse than guilt.


	5. Part 5

**FERIAE CIVITAS**

_And now, the moment you've all been waiting for! This is where we come to the climax of the story, where Tumnus's faith and courage are put to the ultimate test. _

**

* * *

Characters (with some exceptions) © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media**

**Story © unicorn-skydancer08**

_**All rights reserved. **_

**

* * *

Part 5**

For three days, Tumnus and Puck wandered the woods together, and Tumnus tried to make those days as enjoyable for Puck as was earthly possible. Knowing his son was doomed to die, he wanted Puck's last days to be meaningful, to be the very best days he had ever had. He and Puck went swimming together in the cool streams, they playfully chased each other around the grass-filled meadows, they fished and caught several decent-sized fish for their supper, and they pretended to hunt down mysterious creatures that lurked about the forest as they walked. This was all perfectly glorious for Puck, and Tumnus would have had a far much more enjoyable time with his son, were it not for what lay ahead.

On the third night of their journey, Tumnus watched with dread as the moon made its usual ascension into the inky sky, bright and full.

He knew this night was to be _the_ night. The Stone Table was not far; the hill was only about an hour's walk or so from their little camp. The time was at hand. Oh, if only Tumnus could be anywhere but here. If only this could all somehow be reversed…but no, he rebuked himself. Aslan commanded him to do this, and he'd come too far to turn back now.

When Tumnus and Puck had their supper, Tumnus mixed his son's food with special herbs he had secretly gathered—herbs that weren't deadly, but they would dull Puck's senses, and lull him into a state of unconsciousness that would last for several hours. Aslan had never said Puck needed to be awake and alert during the grim procedure. Besides, Tumnus felt this was the only thing he could do for his son, now: to put him to sleep so he wouldn't even know what was happening, and he wouldn't feel pain when it actually happened.

Puck never noticed anything unusual about his dinner, though he had to admit the food was a lot tastier than he expected.

Then, within a short time, the full potency of the herbs began to take effect, and the little faun was out cold before he'd even finished eating.

He never stirred or made a sound as Tumnus bent over his tiny body. Tumnus touched his son, and the child didn't do anything. _Good, _Tumnus thought.

In this way, Puck would not have to suffer.

Therefore, after taking his knife, after snuffing out the fire, Tumnus gently lifted his motionless son into his arms. The only sound Puck ever made as his father picked him up was a faint moan. His only movement was the intermittent rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. His body felt warm and soft, and Tumnus's eyes spilled over with hot tears as he regarded him.

At first, Tumnus couldn't get his legs to cooperate with him, but he somehow managed to place one hoof in front of the other. Soon, he was slowly but surely making his way toward his destination. Though Puck really wasn't that heavy, Tumnus could scarcely hold him; he practically stumbled with the boy's weight.

The night was still and serene, with no other living soul in sight, and the moon showed Tumnus the way. Tumnus wept profusely the whole time he carried his son, his arms trembling as badly as his legs as they cradled Puck, his tears splashing down continually onto the boy's face. In his drugged state, Puck never even heard his father's wretched sobs, nor was he aware of the fall of tears cascading onto his skin. He simply lay there in Tumnus's arms, his expression somewhat uplifted, as if he were in the middle of a sweet dream.

It took every ounce of Tumnus's will just to keep moving forward.

But, in good time, he arrived at the appropriate hill, where the shattered remains of the Stone Table lay drenched in the moon's white blaze.

Tumnus felt a fusion of terror, dread, awe, and wonder churn inside him as he stood still for just a moment and observed the sight. This was the very place where Aslan had once made the ultimate sacrifice, by freely giving his life to the White Witch on the behalf of others. In the moonlight, Tumnus could make out the ancient runes engraved in the sides of the Table, the words of the Deep Magic from the Dawn of Time. The faun could almost see Aslan's demise taking place before his very eyes. Now, just as the Great Lion once surrendered his life, so too must Tumnus yield up his son, his only child, to the One who stood higher than him, whose wisdom and preeminence far exceeded his own.

He'd made the oath to do whatever Aslan commanded of him, and so he would, no matter the amount of pain it caused him. Tumnus knew he was not the one who mattered in this.

Even if he couldn't understand Aslan, or the exact reasons for the Great Lion's ways, he must obey nonetheless.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Tumnus walked all the way up to the Table itself, taking Puck with him. His hooves sounded hollowly on the hard stone, and he had to move carefully around the areas where the ground was serrated and uneven. Puck continued to sleep soundly as Tumnus laid him on one of the cool slabs, with as much tenderness as if the Table were the boy's own bed at home. A faint sliver of moonlight danced on the blade of Tumnus's knife as he now drew it forth. Looking up briefly, Tumnus saw the moon was almost directly above him, like a spy-hole in the firmament. Looking down at his son, in quiet and untroubled repose, oblivious to the fact that he was about to die, Tumnus felt his heart quite literally break for him.

It was as if a crack divided his heart, like the great rift that divided the Stone Table.

The thin, murderous knife trembled within his hand, and it was all but impossible to hold back the spill of tears.

Just before fulfilling the dark deed, Tumnus spoke to his son for a minute.

He knew Puck wouldn't respond, but he had to say a few last words that needed, yearned, to be spoken. "Puck," he whispered brokenly, "Puck, my sweet, most beloved son, please forgive me for what I must do to you. I know your time with your mother and me has been brief, far too brief. Your life has only just begun; now it has come to an end…and I am the one to end it. Oh, my son, my boy, how I wish this were not so. How gladly I would die in your place. Nevertheless, I must adhere to Aslan's word, if I am to keep my love and faithfulness to him true, and pure."

He bent down and kissed Puck's forehead, and he brushed his fingers on his free hand along Puck's cheek with the softness of a butterfly's wings.

"Forgive me," he pleaded again, still speaking in a tortured whisper. "You're my child, Puck, and I will always love you. You were a treasure beyond price; a shining star that lit up the dark skies of my life, a perfect rose that made my life sweet. I wouldn't have traded you, or these last five years I've spent with you, for anything in the world. I love you, my son…I love you."

Now the tears had all but become an unrestrained waterfall, and the thick sobs that clogged Tumnus's throat disabled his ability to talk further.

The anguished faun therefore lifted his knife, holding it high in his still-shaking hand, the long blade pointed directly at Puck's heart. Still Puck never moved from that spot, but only slept on.

At long last, with one final, tragic sob, Tumnus shut his eyes, and slashed the knife downward with all his might—

Only to have some abrupt, powerful force stop his hand, right before the deadly blade entered Puck's heart. The timing was impeccable.

Startled, Tumnus opened his eyes again to discover Aslan right there, blocking him with his right front paw.

"_Aslan!_" said the faun in a strangled voice.

With a single swipe of his paw, Aslan knocked the knife out of Tumnus's grip, where it hit the ground with a clang, still unmarked, untainted by innocent blood.

Tumnus could only stand where he was, gaping at Aslan. What could this mean? Hadn't the Lion just told him to…?

"Tumnus," said Aslan, speaking with both solemnity and tenderness, "spare the child. Do not harm him in any way. It is not required for you to shed Puck's blood tonight, or any night."

"But—but you told me to do this, Aslan!" Tumnus burst out, unable to help himself. "You _commanded_ me to sacrifice my son, this very night!"

"Yes," said Aslan quietly, without turning his head, or averting his golden-eyed gaze in any way. "And I saw for myself that you were about to obey me. It is enough, my son."

"W-what?" Tumnus protested weakly, feeling his legs ready to give out. "I-I don't understand, Aslan. How do you mean…?"

"I had to test you, Tumnus," Aslan told him simply. "And you have passed the test. I am satisfied."

The strength in Tumnus's legs vanished completely in that instant. The faun crumpled to his knees before the supreme animal, barely noticing the sharp shock in his knees as they collided with the hard stone. Tears continued to flow relentlessly down his cheeks, and, to add on to his disbelief, he saw there were tears glistening in Aslan's eyes as well.

For one fleeting moment, Aslan had the strange semblance of a small, timid cub that had just been caught in wrongdoing.

"Will you forgive me, Tumnus?" he pleaded. "Can you forgive me, for putting you through this? I know you have not easily kept this sort of thing a secret from your wife and friends, that the pain you have endured these past days has been nothing short of terrible. I implore your pardon, Tumnus. I never truly meant for your son to actually die; I only wanted to see what you would do. Long ago, you promised to do whatever I asked of you…but I needed to make absolutely sure of that. I needed to be certain you would hold true to that vow, no matter the task."

The words Tumnus uttered at the feet of Aslan all those years ago repeated themselves in the faun's head.

Suddenly, the faun understood. It was as if a veil were lifted from his eyes; everything that seemed dark and muddled to him before was clear as crystal, now.

Such words, he knew, were empty, void of meaning, without faith and action on his part.

_That_ was what Aslan wanted—not Puck's blood, but proof, solid proof, of Tumnus's loyalty to the Lion.

Tumnus felt overwhelmed, but not in such a bad way this time. He recalled only one other time when he experienced relief such as this, relief so great that he was practically lightheaded with it.

He could not harbor the least particle of anger or disgust toward Aslan. How could he? When Aslan nuzzled him briefly in his contrition, Tumnus just grabbed the creature round the neck and held onto him tightly, letting his forgiveness show in his embrace. Aslan must have understood, for he readily returned Tumnus's impassioned hug, placing his massive paw against the faun's fur-striped back. Tumnus closed his eyes and buried his face in the sweet warmth of Aslan's mane, so that his tears seeped into the luxurious gold. When they drew apart a minute later—or it could very well have been an eternity later—Aslan now smiled at Tumnus, and spoke to the faun as if he were his own cub. "Now I know that you truly love me, Tumnus," said the Lion, "seeing how you valued me and honored me above even that which was most precious to you, how you have not withheld your only son from me. For what you have done, for your obedience to me, you and your family—and your future posterity—shall be blessed richly. And you, yourself, shall have place with me in the world to come."

It was almost too much, this blessing. All Tumnus could say in reply was a faint, tremulous, "Oh, Aslan, my lord…"

"Take your son home," Aslan said. "Your task is over, Tumnus. There is no further need for you to linger here. Take Puck home, care for him, raise him in goodness and uprightness. Teach him everything he must know. Above all else, love him, just as I love you…and all my other children."

_Home_. Tumnus never would have believed such a word could sound so glorious, so beautiful.

He promptly reached up for Puck, who still lay unconscious on the Stone Table next to him, and very gently pulled the child down into his lap.

Puck moaned softly as Tumnus gathered his little son close, allowing the boy to rest freely in his arms, but did not stir. Tumnus smiled through his tears as he regarded the sweet child, all too glad that his boy was not to die tonight after all—nor, he hoped, for many, many years to come. As he knelt in that spot, as he held onto his son, Aslan kissed Tumnus's brow tenderly, before stooping his magnificent head and doing the same for Puck. In Tumnus's humble opinion, no flower or perfume in all the world could ever quite equal the sweetness of Aslan's breath, and the faun felt the very spot on his forehead where Aslan touched him burn, with all the power of a blessing.

The Great Lion then brought his front paw down with full force upon the knife that yet lay on the ground, breaking it easily into bits. Then, after exchanging one final loving look with Tumnus, the noble animal turned and bounded away into the night. Tumnus blinked but once, and Aslan was gone, as if vanished into thin air—or as if he were never there in the first place. But Tumnus could feel his presence burning within his heart, like a fire, driving out all fear and doubt. The faun's once heavy heart was now light as a feather; he no longer felt weak or weary, but strong with a strength he had never known. The sharp grief that had plagued him these past days was gone, replaced with pure, undiluted joy and elation.

Knowing that he was acceptable to Aslan, and still got to keep his child…it was a fortune beyond all measure, beyond his or anyone's deserving.

"Papa?" Puck's feeble voice sounded at length.

The effects of the herbs were beginning to wear off, and the lad was slowly returning to his senses. Tumnus looked down to see that the little faun was gazing up at him through bleary, heavily hooded eyes, his long ears twitching ever so slightly in befuddlement. Puck couldn't understand at first why it was so dark. But as his vision cleared, he saw the stars, and recognized the moon overhead. The boy was at a loss of what was going on, why he was here with his father, why Tumnus was holding him the way he was.

Something inside Tumnus melted, and the overflow spilled out through his eyes. "Oh, my son," he wept, drawing the little one closer.

He pressed him thankfully to his breast, nearly mashing Puck's ears in the process, his tears seeping into the soft mass of blonde hair. "Oh, my son…my son!"

"Papa, why are you crying?" Puck asked bewilderedly.

Tumnus smiled at his precious boy, even as the tears fell faster and thicker than ever. "Oh, my son," he sobbed again, "how I love you! I love you with all my heart, and I always will. You're the best son any father could ask for, in the whole world." He continued to kneel in that spot and hold Puck against him, as if he would never let him go; and while Puck still couldn't understand his father's overly emotional state, the hug Tumnus was giving him did feel wonderful. So the small faun just smiled to himself, and clung tightly to his father in return.


End file.
